Glory and Glore
by shystutters
Summary: The world, overrun with walkers...A child, merely fourteen alone...She has seen things...experienced events that a teenager shouldn't. She's alone, wounded, but has a mission. A mission to save her little brother. Yet when she runs into a small group, consisting of a boy her age...what will happen when she draws closer to this boy...named Carl?
1. On Her Own

Moxie was alone. The being, only a child of fourteen was stranded in a city contained with the undead. Years ago this disease taken over Atlanta, years ago she was still so innocent, still so young. She was twelve then...didn't understand what the hell was happening. The child only knew that those...those things wanted to eat her. She hated the walkers. Hated them for what they've done.

The teenager leaned against the brick of a structure, holding her wounded arm close to her heaving chest. A sweat glistened on her skin, the hot summer sun beating down on the pavement, enveloping everything in a muggy haze. Moxie's green eyes momentarily shut. _Damn...damn...god damn everything_. Of course she just had to get hurt, of course. It was only for a can of food and that damn...old man pierced the skin of her left forearm with a knife. Ruby liquid poured down her epidermis, splattering the pavement with each step that she took. A pain electrified her body, the limb shaking and throbbing. She had to fix it. She had to mend the wound before the walkers smelt her blood, before they would be after her to consume her flesh.

The girl gritted her teeth, pushing up from the wall, blood coating her hand like a blanket. The hurt...the searing pain bounced off her nerves as she ran. The combat boots upon her feet pounding against the cement, her heart racing along with the beats. A pharmacy...her green eyes locked on the building. That was her only hope. The location could have everything she needed.

Though she heard them, the walkers' grunts and groans. They smelt her blood and they were coming after her. She had to be quick, or else the teen was road kill. Another meal for those freaks to feast upon. Hell no! Moxie would never want to be berated in a death scene such as that. She wanted to die saving her brother. She had to save him first before death's wings could even think about consuming her. She had to survive. For him. For her baby brother.

The dirty blonde sprinted, quickly traveling into the pharmacy's doors, slamming the entrances shut. Moxie quickly reached for a nearby board, gasping and clenching her teeth, the walkers pounding against the glass. Their decayed bodies banging against the structure, mouths open and fangs ready to nash into any form of meat. Moxie's lips down turned into a frown, low growls leaving her tongue. The wood splintered her hand, her grasp tight and not ceasing, as she shoved it between the handles, before getting yet another piece...this time a metal rod and doing the same. Soon the doors were secure and she stood up, admiring her work. A wide smirk crossed her features, green eyes almost glaring at the walkers...daring for them to break open the door. Her right arm, the unharmed one, raised, and her middle finger only protruded. Her voice coming out slightly horse, as she hadn't spoken in awhile.

"Go fuck yourselves, assholes. You ain't eating me today."

And with that, the survivor turned her back, heading deeper within the pharmacy. She was alone. She was wounded. But she was sure as hell wasn't afraid.


	2. The Wound

Moxie had to attend to the wound that was seared into the skin of her left arm. She needed to fix it before the cut would get infected. The teen searched among the pharmacy, looking through the broken racks. The inside of the confinement appeared chaotic, as if hell itself rose from the earth and wrapped its arms around the space. Shelves knocked to the floor, bottles spilt about the tiled floor. Dry blood decorated the white walls, the flooring...splattering the furnishing with a ruby paint. Moxie couldn't find much, as she was sure that this location was raided of it's products like many others.

The girl cursed under her breath, combat boots kicking a shard of broken wood with aggravation. the sounds of walkers just a mere seven feet away. She traveled behind the main counter, green eyes spotting a backpack. The fourteen year old kneeled down quickly, the nimble fingers of her right unzipping the bag. Inside held a rope, small container of jerky...Her stomach grumbled at the sight of food. She hadn't eaten since the dawn of the previous day. But her hunger was not the top priority at the moment. Her hand dug deeper into the sack...ah a box of bullets. Good, her gun was running out of ammunition. But the tips of her fingers settled upon something else. The feel of thick string...She glanced at the wound. This material could help stitch up her arm.

Moxie quickly pulled out the object, finding it to be fishing line. This will have to do. She stood from the position, now a needle...Her sight flickered over to the drawers of the counter, rummaging through the miscellaneous supplies, stopping by a paper clip. She collected the item, knowing that is the only thing close enough to a needle. She returned to the sack, pulling out a flask. Gingerly, she slid open the top, taking a whiff. The teen cringed at the putrid smell that inflamed her nostrils. The liquid was obviously alcohol. Moxie grabbed the backpack, hauling it with her as she moved to the back of the building. she set the items in an empty corner, looking into the cupboards in search of bandages.

She ripped open the doors, frantic for the bits of fabric. Until she finally retrieved them from under an unfallen shelf. Moxie returned to the same intersection of walls, she leaned against the structure, slowly slipping down until she hit the earth. the next seconds were spent assembling the supplies, first the alcohol, paperclip...fishing line and lastly the bandages. They were arranged into a line, going in order for what was to be used first.

The female unbuttoned her plaid, long sleeved shirt, rolling it off of her shoulders. She now only wear her black tank top, dirtied jeans, and worn out combat boots. The garment slipped behind her back. Moxie flinched when she viewed the source of pain. It was worse than she thought...Eight inches crossed her forearm, the skin sliced open. Meat was exposed, blood dribbling along her arm, the drops glazing the cold tiles. Her limb shook, she was loosing so much of the precious red substance. Moxie's mind began to blank, her cheeks paled. The girl shook her head.

"No...Moxie. Stay focused. Just like dad taught you...it's only a bit of blood."

The words of encouragement seemed to of lifted her spirits only slightly, but that what choice did she have? she cleared her throat, yanking her shirt out from behind her spine, slowly using the cloth to wipe away the blood. Once it appeared to look somewhat cleaner, her hand grasped the flask, hesitantly tipping it ever so slightly.

Moxie yelped as the rain of liquor bubbled along the fissure, creating currents of white foam. The teen bit her bottom lip, uttering colorful language. The left arm was twitching, the droplets cleansing and destroying any germ that it touched. Moxie closed her eyes tightly, inhaling large amounts of air. _Pull it together...Come on...Just like dad would say. You have to do this. _Moxie ordered herself, forcing her orbs open. She wasn't done yet.

The fishing line wrapped around the end of the now elongated paper clip. Moxie had straightened out the piece of metal, fashioning its features to appear more needle like. This is the difficult section. _Exhale...inhale..breathe just breathe. _A cry escaped her chapped mouth, tears formed in the forest green irises. The metal piercing between the broken epidermis. Water trailed down her cheeks. A fire blazed to life, the flames consuming the limb. The beating of her own heart seemed to be coming from the injury. It throbbed, tears of red poured. She had to finish this. Quickly.

_ One stitch._ The teen gritted her teeth, moving the device back and forth. _Two stitch. _Her hand trembled as the silver thread slowly began to mend together the skins. _Three stitch..._soon the number grew to _six. _Her bottom lip was bleeding, the force of her front teeth causing the break. It felt like an eternity...the swears...the moans of true pain. As if she was torturing herself inside of healing. She cursed that damn man, the man who stabbed her. Cursed God, who did nothing about this hell, who only stood in the corner. She cursed herself...for being so stupid and leaving her brother alone. She cursed anything...everything. It took _eight stitches. _

Pants, gasps of oxygen clogged her throat. Her forehead shine from sweat. She reached for her knife, breaking away the string. The bandage concealed the work, protecting it from the outside. She didn't want to. But a darkness swept it's hands over her sight, and sleep had taken over. 


	3. A Letter From a Stranger

Moxie awoke to the growls of her stomach, hunger gnawing at the insides of her body. The ache from the lack of food forcing her green eyes open. The young teen groaned, her spine shimming up the wall. Her sight blurred and mind dizzy. Once the vision cleared, her surroundings focused into place. _The pharmacy…._ Moxie's orbs flitted over to the bag beside her, the objects used as medical supplies, her shirt…then…her very own left forearm. She flinched, even if it was only the bandage burning into her sight, Moxie still remembered the hell of…. Mending the wound together.

She inhaled slowly, taking her time. The throbbing not only pounded into the stitched gas, but also her ear drums. Moxie was lucky that her father had taught her something from his field, how to heal injuries. If not, she wouldn't be breathing at this very moment. Moxie's glance landed on the backpack once again, taking in the features of sack. The color was a deep blue, dirtied by mud and dark splashes of dried ruby. There was three different sized pockets. The first, which was the closest to the spine and the largest, was opened. The memory of just the day before crossed her mind…she was the one who had done the action, done it actually to not only that pocket, but the medium sized one as well. But the only one untouched by her was the third…the smallest…the one in the very front. Moxie hadn't yet revealed the contents of that one…but…perhaps later.

Her attention span was broken, the protests of her inner organ breaking her patience. The dirty blonde extended her limb to the clothing on the floor, a hand smoothing out the fabric. The girl yelped, her left arm partially in the sleeve. _Don't be a baby… You can do this. Come on, Moxie! _She was the one in control, not her pain…not the walkers…not even that criminal who was holding her baby brother captive. She was. No one else. And she could put on her own damn shirt!

She forced herself to continue, forced down the cries of misery and proceeded to dress herself. Moxie needed some type of protection to cover her arm, and a bandage wasn't going to cut it. So perhaps this long sleeved shirt would provide more support. It was all she had, and she was going to take full advantage of it. Her buttons left undone, flashing her black tank top and the skin of her upper chest.

Hands dug deep within the large pocket, fingers enclosing around the container which held the jerky. Nimble joints peeled off the plastic covering, meat shoved into her parted lips. Moxie couldn't even taste the food, her teeth crunching the protein without a second thought. It's been so long….three days without food. And she didn't stop, not until every last piece was gone.

The torture halted in her organs, the groans of starvation silent. For now…she knew that she would have to get some more food soon. She snapped the lid back on, shoving the plastic back inside the backpack. _It wouldn't be safe here for much longer._

The flask, fishing line, bandages, and the makeshift needle fell into the bag as well. Moxie zipped the largest compartment first. Her fingertips grazing over the second one before an idea struck her mind. _There was a box of bullets in this one…_Her palms dipped inside, grasping the material of the box. Hastily it was unlatched, the teen reaching to the cold tiles, gripping her weapon firmly. Taking apart the gun, she slid the golden nuggets down it's throat, loading the machine fully. Numerous amounts of bullets laid in the small, paper like box. It was not trash, and was rewarded by returning to the depths of the second pocket.

Moxie fixed the gun at her hip, the knife strapped upon the opposite side. _Almost ready to leave…but.._ Yet the idea of what was hidden in the final enclosure made her wait. _It could be anything. _Perhaps even something non important or lifesaving, but she needed to know. Now.

The teen knelt, her knee firmly upon the cold earth. Slowly the texture of the zipper was between her fingers, undoing the notches. Plunged within the smallest pocket, pads of skin awaiting for the felt of any material. Emerald eyes largened, her sense of touch indicating paper clasped in her hand. Her sight narrowed, a thing before her that she hasn't seen in awhile. It was a letter…right there in her very hands. The handwriting was sloppy, stains on the edges. _Must have been in there for awhile._ It was strange, reading something like this. As if Moxie was invading on a conversation that she wasn't allowed to talk in. But she continued to read.

_Dear Lisa,_

_I hope you find this and I pray that you are safe. With this I also left you this bag, you'll find thing in here to help you out. I know its not much, but that's all I have. Lisa, I don't know how much longer I'm going to live, so I want you to know…I love you. I've loved you since we were kids and I'll love you when I'm dead. Forever and always. If we never meet on earth again, you'll see me in heaven. Lisa…Promise me you'll try to survive. Lisa…you need to know the truth. I got bit…and I plan on shooting myself soon. I love you, Lisa. Be safe and God bless._

_ -Mike_

Moxie folded the paper, stuffing it back inside where it had came from. She didn't have the heart to rip it. The girl shook her head, clearing memories that were stirred from the text. _Get it together…It was just a letter…Time to move on. _Moxie gritted her teeth, pulling the backpack until it made contact with her spine, the straps on her shoulder. It was time to leave, to face the world once again. She was healed and ready.

Moxie walked out of the back of the pharmacy, ignoring any walkers. She traveled quietly, making sure her footsteps were quiet to not disturb the enemy. Her mind was sharpened, nerves calm. Moxie knew which way she was going. Straight to those people. Straight for that man. Straight for her brother.


	4. A Meeting

**AN: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry it's been a few days since I posted something! It's been a really busy week with school and I'm getting confirmed this week! So, I will try to get this out as soon as I can! But before we get on with the story, I want to thank the first few people who have reviewed!**

**fangirlnodoubt**

**green angel01**

**uiohfg45**

**and Mimi!**

**Thank you so much for your support! 333**

* * *

The girl peered about the corner, air catching in her esophagus. Numbers of adding calculating within her brain. There were ten walkers prowling through the streets, limping in search of something to sink their teeth into. Moxie knew that she alone couldn't defeat them all at once. She slowly backed from the location, the bottom of her boots shuffling against the pavement. _Nice and easy…_

A loud gasp escaped from Moxie's vocal cords, the sound of clashing teeth beside her very ear. She could feel the hot breath cloaking the skin of her neck. The exhales smelt putrid….Everything about this being containing her was….deathly. Moxie grunted, squirming in the walker's grasp. She repeatedly slammed the body into the nearest brick wall, keeping her head away from it's wanting mouth. A soft impact upon the back of her shirt and the rotting scent indicated the splatter of ruby liquid. She managed to accomplish the walker to release her, whipping about to face her opponent.

The walker immediately reached for the meal, but Moxie sidestepped, her able hand pulling out her knife.

"You bastard…Sneaking up on me like that…"

The dirty blonde growled, approaching the monster and inserting the blade within it's skull. A foul crack sliced the oxygen. With a slight twist of her wrist, the edge embedded deep inside bone and meat. A sickening, liquid like noise boasted when the girl removed the weapon, the walker crumpling to the earth. Moxie sighed, shaking her head as she wiped the maroon paint that coated her knife against her jeans.

But she wasn't close to finish with walkers for the day, as the girl realized. Her head lifted, eyes widening as a horde of the undead crowded the north of the alleyway, blocking her escape from the previous ten. Moxie's hands trembled, her feet moving backwards and away from the large group. _How can I take all these walkers down? It's impossible…_

The fourteen year old swiftly turned away, bounding towards the other end. Her exhales quick and heart beating rapidly. She was greeted by the numerous walkers, their worn fangs thrusting outward, in needing of fresh food. The girl impaled the dead that had gotten near her, but the strength to continue was withering. Pain shot up her left arm every time she dared to move it. Stumbling among the rubble, Moxie tried to gain leverage against these walkers, but it was difficult to be on defense only having one capable hand to ward them off with. _Moxie come on! Thomas needs you…_

The teen though had made the mistake of removing her eyes from the ground. Her foot had gotten stuck on a pothole within the tar, causing Moxie to crash upon man's road. A cry burst, eyes wide as she landed on her weak arm. The throbbing had gotten worse, the quaver multiplying by thousands. Spots danced along her vision, head twisting and turning, body sluggishly scooting along the earth, trying to distance herself. _Where's my knife? _Her eyes fell on the questioned object, viewing it to be feet away from her current location. Yet there was something else there, a figure….running…

Thunderous bangs of a gun and the smell of powder clogged her senses, her arm leveraging the rest of her weight upward, making the girl stumble to her feet once again. She charged for her knife, running and grabbing the hilt. But as she changed direction for a flee, she stood face to face with…a person?

She blinked, shocked to find a traveling figure who wasn't consumed by the virus. Though, her face hardened. _It's not safe to trust people. _Her green eyes examining the sight before her. It was a boy, probably around her age, wearing a large sheriffs hat. And he seemed to of pointed a gun directly behind her. The mysterious male yanked Moxie by her wrist, his hand wrapped around the said area. He was sprinting, half dragging along the squirming girl who tried to escape his iron grip. The fourteen year old glared at the back of his head.

"What are you doing! Stop! Who are you!?" She demanded, voice harsh and cold.

The young male simply turned his head, his ice blue eyes glancing in her direction before she heard—

"I'm Carl.."


End file.
